


But Never Doubt I Love

by celinra, deatiface



Category: Hornblower (TV), Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Live Kennedy Universe, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28055451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celinra/pseuds/celinra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/deatiface/pseuds/deatiface
Summary: When Midshipman Hornblower sends a letter to his father about his time aboard the Justinian, he doesn't anticipate it being lost on the way and answered instead by a young midshipman from another vessel, one Archie Kennedy.A retelling of the events of the series exploring what would have happened if Archie and Horatio met over post before becoming shipmates. A ridiculous mix of book and TV canon (except when it's neither).
Relationships: Horatio Hornblower/Archie Kennedy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original concept belongs to Deatiface; I was just lucky enough to be accepted as a cowriter for this wild ride. -Celinra
> 
> Concept would be an absolute dumpster fire if Celinra hadn't been an amazing cowriter and editor. -Deatiface

Horatio sat, staring at the blank paper in front of him.

He didn’t want to write it. He had nothing to say that was positive about his experience up to this point. It hadn’t seemed _bad_ , putting aside the learning curve of everything he was expected to do, but it was hardly _good_ , either. He wasn’t under any sort of illusions as to why he was here; it was for duty, not any sort of enjoyment or pleasure. And he was fine with that, truly. But he was utterly alone, a mismatch among a crew so much older and experienced than he was.

But his father would be wanting for news, and if he didn’t send a letter soon, then it was no different than sending a bad report. And after the strings his father had pulled to get him here, he couldn’t bear to seem ungrateful. So he put pen to paper, doing the bare minimum to set his father’s mind at ease, hoping it wouldn’t read as hollow as it felt.

HMS _Justinian_

Dearest Father:

I am pleased to tell you that everything is going along splendidly. I count myself fortunate indeed to serve under Captain Keene, and with so fine a body of men as are to be found here in _Justinian_. I am very happy here.

I trust this finds you as it leaves me: Well, and in good spirits.

Your affectionate son,

Horatio

*****

Archie held the letter in his hand, the address smudged and now illegible, ruining his chance to forward it to its rightful owner. He deliberated whether or not to open it for less time than he would admit - after all, if these were despatches, he would be able to feel the weight of the grape shot. 

No, Archie told himself as he carefully broke the seal on the envelope, this was merely a lost letter. And somehow, he found that idea appealed more to him than finding despatches of war. He leaned back in his hammock with one arm slung behind his head as he read its contents. 

His lips pulled into an unconscious smirk at the formality of the letter, knowing full well the hardships of being at sea, even during a time of peace. He cast his mind back to the last letter he wrote to his Father and, despite their strained relationship, he had managed to write honestly of the last six months he had spent as midshipman under Captain Moore. 

Before he even knew what he was doing, Archie was out of his hammock and at his desk, mind racing at the thought of his reply.

HMS _Montague_

Dearest Horatio, -

I regret to inform you that your letter did not reach its intended recipient. Instead it has found its way to the _Montague_ and the address too water-damaged to forward on. 

As a man in Her Majesty's Navy, I too know the unpleasantness of a life at sea. One can only hope you are a better sailor than you are at writing a convincing tale to send your father. 

I trust this letter finds you as I am: Immeasurably fatigued, but in good spirits.

Your _“_ _Witty Fool”_ ,

Archie Kennedy

Archie folded the letter and put it at the bottom of his sea chest, tucked between the pages of a well loved copy of Hamlet, the coincidence of the name _Horatio_ not lost on him. He lay back on his hammock and smiled. For once he did not think about home, about the impending war, he didn't even think of his mistreatment at the hands of _him_. Instead he closed his eyes, still smiling as he drifted to sleep. 

*****

It had been three days since receiving that damnable letter, and Horatio still had not managed to pen a reply.

He appreciated that this Archie had written to let him know the fate of his letter. Less welcome were his criticisms, the implications that he wasn't being entirely honest.

He _wasn't_ , but that was his own business, and he didn't need it commented upon by strangers.

He thought, many times, about just leaving it at that. About ignoring the letter, about simply writing to his father - again - and then letting himself forget about this Archie character.

But, in the end, the man deserved a thank you, at the very least. 

When he finally sat to write it, he hesitated almost immediately. This stranger was in the Navy, like himself, but what was his station? Was he outranked? Well, odds were that he was, simply speaking mathematically. But by how much? He read the letter again - which he already had done more times than he cared to admit - searching for clues, but none were to be found. His best lead was the casual tone and the easy way he spoke about hardships; probably not a higher officer, then, as they wouldn't be so open with someone so obviously new. 

But then, he hadn't yet found even a fellow midshipman who was that friendly towards him, either. Tact, then, was the most reasonable option here. 

HMS _Justinian_

To the Esteemed Mr. Archie Kennedy:

I must thank you for taking the time to write, informing me of what had happened to my previous letter, giving me the chance to correct the error before my father grew too concerned by my silence.

However, I must disagree with you, as I find life at sea thus far to be completely satisfactory. Your sympathies are appreciated, but unnecessary.

I hope this letter finds your good spirits holding fast, as are mine.

Yours very respectfully,

Horatio Hornblower

*****

Archie was still sticky with sweat from the previous nights’ fit, which he noted always seemed to occur after his _conversations_ with Jack Simpson. 

He crept around the ship's hold, taking the longer but more hidden route back to his berth. Simpson was on watch and Archie knew he was keen to remind him _again_ not to rouse him from sleep with his infernal wracking cries. 

As he crossed the threshold of the mess, he was relieved to find himself only in the company of Clayton, an older gentleman who had long lost his desire to rise in the ranks, but instead served as a fatherly mentor to the new and younger Midshipmen. 

Archie felt Clayton’s eyes cast over his face and body cautiously, taking in the newly forming bruises and cuts. 

The older man had realised early on that there were no words he could say to ease the pain Archie felt. Instead, Clayton simply nodded his head in the direction of the desk before going back to his book; “There’s a letter for you, Mr. Kennedy.”

Archie slumped down at the desk and sighed. He was in no mood for a dissatisfied letter from his Father about how he wasn’t yet a lieutenant, or from his sisters crowing about their most recent beaus. But as he picked up the letter, his eyes narrowed and a small smile crept across his face as he recognised the handwriting. 

_No_ , he thought as he tore open the letter with less patience than he should have used. 

But yes. 

A reply from Mr. Horatio Hornblower. With all the formality and a twinge of annoyance that Archie had expected when he dared to imagine Horatio might reply. He smiled wider, ignoring the pain as it stretched the gash on his bottom lip. 

He knew he shouldn’t reply again. After all, he may be writing to a higher ranked officer or, dare he say, a captain. But even drinking his ration of rum to soothe his troubled thoughts didn’t warm his heart as much as the letter from this _Horatio_ , whom he had never met. He didn’t care to question it and, instead, immediately began to pen a reply. 

HMS _Montague_

Dearest Horatio, - 

I believe we must agree to disagree. With such ill-fated luck I find myself still merely a midshipman after serving at sea for eight long years, and I find the drawn-out nights and cold weather most intolerable. And yet, your reply brings me joy; and one must find joy in the little things when isolated for such long periods at sea, do you not think?

We are soon to be at war, if the rumours I hear are correct. I fear by the time this letter reaches you it may have already begun. In which case, Horatio, I wish you well on your journey and shall reserve my sympathies for your plights after battle. 

_“And all the Gods go with you! Upon your sword  
Sit laurel victory! And smooth success  
Be strew’d before your feet!”  
_-Antony & Cleopatra

Your friend & comrade,

Archie Kennedy

As Archie tucked away both his and Horatio’s letters, he pondered briefly on the possibility of war and found he was not afraid, nor excited. He was relieved. War brought about the opportunity to transfer to another ship and the chance to get away from this nightmare he had endured for what felt like a lifetime. 

As if to prove his point, the door of the mess creaked open slowly and Archie felt his body tense as he saw the dark figure in the doorway. 

His time on watch was over. 

*********

Things changed drastically after Horatio sent his letter to Mr. Kennedy. Most notably, war was declared, and while some men transferred to other ships, the _Justinian_ remained where she was, with Horatio aboard her. Even so, there was an intensity, an eagerness that everyone showed in going about their work which had been missing before. 

At least, there _had_ been, until their new transfers came aboard, including one from a ship Horatio was more familiar with than the rest - in name only, perhaps, but the coincidence still drew his notice, and, briefly, he dared to hope. Mr. Kennedy seemed amiable enough; perhaps his former shipmate would be, as well.

It was not to be. If things on the _Justinian_ were lukewarm during his first weeks of service, now they were frigid, everyone in fear of this newly arrived member of the crew - some from prior experience, and some, like himself, being shown for the first time.

It was a welcome distraction when the letter arrived, confused though he was. He'd thought their correspondence complete, and yet proof to the contrary rested in his hands. He didn't open it immediately, saving it for a quiet moment when his new tormentor was otherwise occupied. His reply, on the other hand, formed quickly, his only hesitation coming from the realisation that he didn't know much about his unseen conversation partner, and having now met someone from his ship, he was loath to reveal much until he knew more. Even so, he couldn’t help growing a bit more familiar than he had been previously. 

HMS _Justinian_

My Dear Mr. Kennedy:

It seems that with this letter, I am to express my sympathies to _you_ ; for if a letter such as mine is bringing you joy, your situation must be dire indeed! And yet receiving your letter has added a bit of the unexpected to what would otherwise be a routine day, so I suppose I can concede to your point.

The rumors you heard were correct, it seems, though as a lowly midshipman aboard a waiting vessel, I can't say I've experienced its effects as of yet, aside from the shuffling of crew members. One of our new arrivals, as it happens, hails from your ship - a Mr. Jack Simpson. Did you know him?

I'll send your good wishes back to you; it may be that you need them more than I at the current moment.

Your companion in service,

Horatio Hornblower

*****

Horatio had replied. Archie tried not to succumb to the idea that he had written out of a sense of duty and politeness, but that he had done so out of a growing sense of friendship. He had struggled throughout his career to make friends, and felt a childish sense of excitement at the prospect of having someone to talk to. 

At times he worried he was getting carried away with his thoughts, but here it was - a reply from this stranger; his Horatio. 

As he stood around the Captain’s table with his fellow officers, he could feel the unopened correspondence in the breast pocket of his jacket. He tried desperately to pay attention as orders were barked at them for the attack on the _Papillion_ tonight, but his thoughts would immediately return back to Horatio, and all he managed to catch was a brief instruction about the jollyboats. Archie resolved he would ask Clayton later. 

After they were dismissed, Archie forced himself to walk calmly back to the midshipmen’s mess, still finding himself hiding any semblance of emotion, good or bad. Emotion was a weakness that could be preyed upon, not that he found anything other than playful sportsmanship between the men now that Simpson had gone. Times had indeed changed. The fits had stopped and, although the nightmares still remained, Archie counted this as a victory.

Finally, in his hammock, he allowed his excitement to overwhelm him as he read, letting out a short laugh at Horatio returning his sympathies; it seemed either he had a sharp wit or a low self esteem and, given how unimaginative his original letter had been, Archie was inclined to believe it was the latter. 

But then he froze. 

It couldn’t be true. Surely the fate of the universe could not be so cruel? Archie’s hands trembled as he read the same sentence over and over, desperately wishing that this time it would say something different. 

He stumbled ungracefully across the room, snatching some paper hastily. He had to warn him. As Archie’s eyes welled, he could barely see as he scrawled his message. His tears may have speckled the paper but he didn’t think he had the energy in him to write it again, and hoped it would be enough. Hoped it would reach his dear friend in time. 

HMS _Montague_

My Friend Horatio, - 

Please. Be careful. You do not know half of what he is capable of. 

Let me know you are safe. 

Archie

*****

Horatio lay in his hammock, staring at the ceiling. Perhaps he should be trying to get what little sleep he could between bells, but he knew by now that was futile, anyways; being tired was a constant.

He’d thought… He wasn’t sure quite _what_ he’d thought, when he didn’t receive a reply. The most likely explanation, he’d reasoned, would be that Archie was simply preoccupied by his duties. Or perhaps he’d been harmed in action; an unpleasant notion, to be sure, but still plausible. But a third possibility sat in the back of his mind, always growing stronger: That the other man had finally grown bored of him. Perhaps, in this time of war, he no longer had need of the correspondence of a reticent stranger to pass the days.

He hadn’t held it against Archie. He only wished that he were so fortunate.

He closed his eyes, now, thinking of when he finally learned the letter had arrived - by way of Simpson waving it in front of his face while he himself was held down against the table. He wasn’t prepared enough to stop the flash of recognition from crossing his face, and that was all Simpson needed to start saying that he’d known Kennedy, too, to start wondering aloud what it was they wrote each other about, if that was Horatio’s “dirty little secret.”

He felt ill, thinking about it, and he wasn’t sure it could entirely be blamed on the subsequent beating he received when he tried to fight back. 

But at least now he had the letter. The seal was broken, but it was otherwise intact. Small favors, he supposed.

He had almost scoffed aloud when he read it. Too little, too late. But, on the other hand, nothing that could possibly give credence to Simpson’s speculations were in this letter. Another small mercy.

And there _was_ a letter. Perhaps that shouldn’t have cheered him as much as it did, considering the circumstances he was in. It changed nothing. He was still in Hell.

But there was someone on his side, at least. He could cling to that.

He ran his fingers over the letter, tracing the few words, and the spots where water droplets blurred them slightly. He tried not to think too much of that; they were men of the Navy, after all, surrounded by water at all times. The next bell rang, and, after the familiar nudge, he tucked the letter away, close to his chest, finally allowing himself to try for a bit of sleep.

He replied as soon as he had some time to himself the next morning. He couldn’t bring himself to answer in detail, to relive the events of the previous evening. But Archie had seen through his words in that first letter; perhaps he would do so again.

HMS _Justinian_

My Dear Friend Archie:

Please set your mind at ease; I am as safe as can be expected.

I pray this letter finds you in continued good spirits and better health.

Faithfully yours,

Horatio

*****

After capturing the _Papillion_ , his ship, the _Montague_ , went on to capture three more prizes, and Archie was temporarily transferred to the smallest of them: The _Immortalité_. This, of course, meant several agonising weeks of not knowing if Horatio was safe. And right now, that was all that mattered to him: Whether Simpson had driven him mad, or worse, to death. 

Archie pushed the last thought out of his mind. Only he would have considered that cowardly option in his darkest hours. Not Horatio.

He had barely set foot back on the _Montague_ before Clayton hurriedly pressed the letter into his hand. And now, here he was, sitting at his desk with the unopened packet. He was alive, Archie thought, but at what cost? 

He had sat, trembling, as the memories came flooding back to him; the pain, the humiliation, the helplessness of it all. Bile rose in his throat as he realised he once again felt helpless. His mind desperately tried to cling to half formed plans to rescue his Horatio, only to realise again that it was impossible. 

He swallowed thickly as he broke the envelope’s seal.

Now that Archie had opened the letter, he wasn’t sure he felt much better. He understood Horatio’s reply perfectly. _“I am as safe as can be expected.”_ Archie knew full well what could be expected, and could only pray Simpson had not fully released the vehemence of his anger, but as he spotted the slightest smudge of copper at the edge of the page, he knew it was just wishful thinking. His head hurt.

He resolved to write him the next day with a clearer head, but as each bell rang throughout the night he swore he could feel the ghost of that familiar hand shaking him awake. When he thought of Horatio enduring that same punishment, he knew he would not sleep until he found the words that would be of some comfort to his dear friend. 

HMS _Montague_

My Dearest Horatio, -

It seems my original judgement of you was correct; you are incapable of spinning a credible tale. I fear I understand your reply perfectly.

Should you have a moment of darkness, please look upon the ocean and know you have a friend who sails upon the same sea.

I hope, my dear Horatio, that this letter brings you some respite, as yours did for me.

 _“You need to have courage,  
Because tomorrow will be better.  
While there’s life, there’s hope,  
And only the dead have none.” _  
-Theocritus

Yours always,

Archie 

As he lay, trying to quell the anger in his body enough to sleep, crushing the letter to his chest, those two little words which eased his heart and mind came back to him: _Faithfully yours_. 

****

It was with trembling hands that he read the letter. The timing of its arrival made him force back a bitter laugh. Of course it would come now, when he was trying to convince himself he was ready to die. Still, he'd all but decided to write to Archie again tonight, whether he received a new letter or not; this was simply the final push he needed, and he struggled to steady himself to pen his reply.

HMS _Justinian_

Dearest Archie:

If you understand my reply perfectly, then I don't need to waste words explaining how I've found myself in my current situation.

I challenged the man to a duel, Archie. The opportunity arose when he accused me of cheating at whist. A flimsy reason, to be sure, but I'm sure you well know that it's very little to do with the cards. It's to be an unconventional duel: Only one pistol will be loaded, and we will choose our weapons not knowing which is which. It's only an even chance, but it's the best chance I have. One way or another, I shall be free of him.

And yet receiving your letter is the first time since the duel has been set that I've dared to hope I may live to see tomorrow's end. Had it arrived sooner, perhaps I would have acted differently, but I must now see this through to its end, whatever that may be. 

There have been rumors of a transfer. Perhaps if luck is on my side, I shall see my fortunes improve, and you can tell me more of these works you're so fond of quoting.

If not, then know that your letters have been a spot of light during an otherwise bleak time. I wish you every success.

Yours,

Horatio

*****

White burst into Archie’s vision as the first lash bit down upon the exposed flesh on his back. It cracked down again, and again, with each one causing another explosion of searing agony. He had deserved it, of course. As his fist had flown squarely into the face of his junior midshipman, he had found himself lucky that the captain hadn’t had him hung from the yardarm.

Another lash. Eighteen more to go. 

He remembered the snide faces of Collins and Smith as they taunted him, drawling nastily over the words “Yours, Horatio”. Archie’s fist had caught Smith before he even realised what he had done. He had wondered afterwards whether it was his façade cracking after years at the hands of his previous tormentor, or whether he felt something unexpected towards Horatio. Something that scared him.

The next lash stung harder as he felt his flesh rip open and his back begin to feel wet. Thirteen left. 

This letter he had received, it was longer and underlined with trust - an openness Horatio had never exposed to him before. A feeling Archie had tried to push away as childish romanticism had overwhelmed him as he read it. Losing him at the hands of Simpson, _losing him at all,_ was unbearable. He cursed at Horatio for finding himself in such a situation, whilst noting gravely to himself the spark of pride; he himself would never have had the courage to do the same.

He bit into his bottom lip and felt the familiar taste of blood fill his mouth as the next few hits continued to bury into his skin. Eight. 

As the final lashes struck his back, his skin now ragged, his vision began to blur. He would not allow his tears to betray him; not here, not now with an audience. 

The pain had now engulfed his entire body. He couldn’t think. His mind was, as it always was, thinking of Horatio. 

Four.

They needed each other. He needed him. 

Three.

He couldn’t lose him.

Two. 

He _couldn’t_.

One. 

HMS _Montague_

Horatio, My Foolish Friend, -

I fear we are both men of senseless decisions at the hands of those who hurt us. Even though my rash decision has led to a visit to the grating, I realise you have a far bolder journey to make. 

I pray that I receive another letter from you with news I could only have dreamt of in my darkest moments – you have become dear to me, and I do not wish to lose you at the hands of such a malicious coward. 

You are braver than any man I have met; I wish you more than luck my dear friend.

Your Archie

*****

HMS _Indefatigable_

My Dear, Foolish Archie:

Let me begin by apologising for the delay in this letter; much has happened since last I wrote, and while I wished to set your mind at ease much sooner, things have only settled enough to do so now.

I am, as you can see, alive. However, it has nothing to do with luck, and all to do with Captain Keene, who arranged that both pistols should be empty. Honor satisfied, the notion was that we could both resume our duties. Simpson, however, refused to accept this outcome, and snatched another's pistol.

That likely would have been the end of me, had Captain Pellew, of the _Indefatigable_ , not been in attendance. He had come to observe a potential transfer to his ship - for, yes, the rumors were true - and it was his quick action that saved me.

Jack Simpson is no more, Archie.

I don't know what it is you've done that led to your punishment, but I hope that things turn around for you, as it seems they are starting to for me. You must deserve it, for I can only imagine that you are a far braver man than I. It was only a matter of weeks before I was seeking an escape from the torments brought on by that man. I know not how long you suffered under the same, but to bear it as long as you did must have taken a great deal of strength.

Be well, my friend.

Yours always,

Horatio

*****

When no letter had arrived after their usual few weeks, Archie didn’t dare to think what that might mean. He couldn’t. He wasn’t sure his heart would cope. Instead, he busied himself with his duties, determined to prove to Captain Moore that he was a good midshipman, and worthy of the promotion to acting lieutenant he had heard rumours of.

But with every dog watch that passed, every new course that was plotted and every capture of a prize ship, his mind was forever clouded with his Horatio.

Clayton had been transferred to HMS _Reliant_ , a third-rate ship of the line, and, now alone, Archie found himself questioning the relationship they had shared. Yes, he had trusted Clayton, but he knew they were merely thrust together by unfortunate circumstances with the older man pitying him rather than valuing his friendship.

And so, with no reply from Horatio, he wondered if he had experienced and lost his first glimpse of a true friendship. Horatio never needed to reply to his letters – did the fact that he did, that he let his walls down in his last letter, mean as much as Archie hoped it did?

Finally, after nearly two months, it came. The familiar handwriting jumped out at him from the newly arrived pile of correspondence. Even if he hadn’t reached the safety of privacy, he wouldn’t have been able to stop the tears that rolled down his cheek.

It would all be alright.

HMS _Montague_

My Dear Heroic Horatio, -

I will not pretend I was not troubled by your delayed response, but your reply of good fortune has done much to restore my fraying nerves. As you say, Simpson is no more. No longer shall we allow our minds and bodies to buckle under his torture; he is not the kind of man who deserves to be remembered. 

If I should ever find myself in the company of Captain Pellew, it appears I have much to thank him for. I have indeed heard of him – such an esteemed man to serve under, Mr. Hornblower. I wonder if he knows yet how lucky he is to have such a valiant midshipman on his side? 

My punishment was a result of a fleeting loss of temper; the quotes you wish to hear more of from my previous letters have always set me apart from the other men at sea – they do not wish to share their berth with a man who knows Drury Lane like it was his home. I must confess that I have never had a true friend before, my time thus far being rather lonely. During your absence of letters, I found I missed you Horatio. 

_“And this our life, exempt from public haunt,  
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,  
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.” _

Your intemperate fool,

Archie

*****

HMS _Indefatigable_

My Dearest Archie:

If you were missing my letters, then it seems only right to offer recompense as quickly as possible; more you shall have. And yet I fear you misestimate my character. I am neither heroic nor valiant, I was simply a man who thought he had nothing more to lose. 

We've never spoken, and yet I can already hear you chiding me for having thought that way. Please don't put yourself to the trouble, I already know well how wrong I was. I knew it when I received your letter the day before that fateful duel.

I can't say I've had an abundance of friends in my own life, so perhaps our paths were bound to cross. Would that I were there, dear Archie, to ease your troubles, if not extinguish them, and you could tell me more about Drury Lane, with which I'm appallingly ignorant. Until then, may you have the "good in everything" you speak of.

Steadfastly yours,

Horatio

*****

HMS _Montague_

My Dearest Horatio, -

Please put that thought from your mind – I have misread nothing about your character; and I will not save you from the difficulty of being told again. 

The recent triumphs of the _Indefatigable_ have spread amongst the fleet. I only wish you could have seen my face when word reached me of a “Mr. Hornblower who had steered a fire ship out of harm’s way.” _Really_ , Horatio. 

You know me too well: It seems the future of our friendship will be plagued with me chiding you, but one would hope I would also be standing by your side. 

Should our paths ever cross in London, I would delight in taking you to Drury Lane and showing you the plays I am most fond of. What is it that you are fond of, my friend? I feel like I know you so well, yet not at all.

My Horatio, were it that you were here, I believe I would never need worry again.

Ever thinking of you,  
Archie

*****

HMS _Indefatigable_

My dearest friend Archie:

I suppose it will do me no good to say that those events, too, are not nearly so grand as the tales would have you believe. I saw a means of protecting my ship and I took it, that’s all; surely any man in my position would have done the same. And, if that fails to convince you, as I’m sure it will, please know that the fire ship was not nearly so daunting as the examination for lieutenant which it not only interrupted, but saved me from failing. I shall have to wait for another opportunity to take it, but at least I am not set back.

I suppose I shall have to get used to such chidings, then. And yet it doesn’t seem so bad, if it means you’re there accompanying me. Even if we never make it to Drury Lane, I imagine you could tell me all about those plays yourself, and I would be perfectly content to sit and listen.

As for my own interests, I fear you would think they are rather dull in comparison. I do enjoy the company of a good book - though I regret to say I’ve never quite grasped the appeal of Shakespeare. I’m also rather fond of the game of whist; I would play with my father, and always relished the challenge of it…

…

…

…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horatio and Archie have been writing each other for years. But when months past without word from the other, what realisations about their feelings for each other will come to light?

Days turned into months, which turned into years. The _Indefatigable_ , with her growing list of triumphs, was rarely still. The scenery - when there was any besides water in all directions - was ever changing, and they had to be prepared to alter their course at a moment’s notice.

But the one thing that did not change was the letters. Horatio’s days were not so dark as they had been aboard the _Justinian_ , but hearing from Archie still never failed to improve his mood. He had briefly worried that his admission about Shakespeare would see an end to their communications, but it was just the opposite: The next letter had practically been a treatise, and the ensuing conversation had Archie declaring that Horatio must see a Shakespeare play done _properly_ , and he would singlehandedly stop the war _himself_ if that was what it took to make that happen.

Rarely had he found someone with whom he could be so open. But more than that, never before had someone been as open with _him_ as Archie was; for someone who had always kept to himself, it surprised him how much he delighted in this. When too much time passed between letters - as sometimes happened with both ships on the move - he would read and reread the previous letters, especially the ones in which his friend was clearly passionate about a subject, no matter what it was. He had been right: He _was_ perfectly content to listen. He only wished he could hear it straight from Archie, and Horatio often found himself imagining what he sounded like; but even without knowing, he could practically hear the excitement in his words, or the exasperation, or the warmth.

HMS _Indefatigable_

My Dearest Archie:

Apologies, as always, for the delay - though it happens so often lately that I imagine it's practically expected at this point. I suppose I should be grateful that we are both kept so busy after those monotonous days before the war, but it comes at a price.

Your next assignment sounds like an interesting one - though I should wonder how the crew will react to sharing their ship with Frenchmen.

It seems that the _Indefatigable_ , as well, is to be sent on an errand of her own. We’re soon to head off towards the Bay of Gibraltar, to see if anything is to be done about the infernal blockade set in place there.

I hope, as I ever do, that this letter finds you safe. Best of luck to you, and may we both have good news to share before too long.

Yours, as always,

Horatio

*****

When Archie was on shore leave, he always found himself idling in the nearest bookshop. It was now difficult to find something he had not yet read, but as he thumbed through the various editions he spied another young officer a few feet away; an officer of Her Majesty’s Navy judging by the uniform. 

It was unusual that this establishment should have someone his age there, given that shore leave for the Navy was regarded as a chaste and rare thing. Most found themselves in the alehouse drinking wholeheartedly with the enamoured local women hanging off their arms. 

Archie had always preferred to find something to give him a longer sense of satisfaction. And given the worrying condition of his so-called French allies he was soon to share his ship with, it seemed he would need something to give him some respite.

His attention was drawn again to the dark haired officer, who was now frowning into a copy of Hamlet.

“If you have not read it, I find I can highly recommend it,” Archie nodded at the book in the man’s hands. “As one of Shakespeare’s longest plays, it is sure to keep you entertained during the long days at sea.”

The stranger looked up at Archie quizzically; _guardedly,_ Archie thought, before the man nodded curtly and thanked him. It seemed he wished to be left alone to decide his purchase, and Archie would reluctantly indulge him. As his thoughts wandered back to Horatio, he wondered briefly how he had managed to be so lucky as to find someone who had slotted into his life perfectly. Who completed him. _Who was willing to let him ramble on about literature_ , Archie mused with a smile.

He sometimes thought upon what Horatio looked like, but as he reread the letters again, he knew to him it did not matter; Horatio, _his Horatio_ , was the words on the page and the comfort and love he felt in his chest as his eyes pored over the words.

Muzillac _,_ HMS _Montague_

My Dear Horatio, -

While I am equally unenthusiastic about our French allies, I am more displeased at sharing my quarters with Major Edrington. The man has all but bought his commission and yet looks down on anyone who does not have the good fortune to do the same. 

I wish, as always, that you were here. I believe you may be the only one able to curb my loose tongue around the intolerable man, which as you always remind me is soon to get me into trouble.

Selfishly, I hope your mission shall not keep you too busy and that you are able to write often. Perhaps our ships may even pass and we could wave to each other from the mastheads; or perhaps from the deck, given your fear of heights?

Good luck with your journey, dear Horatio, and I will be, as I always am, thinking of you until I hear that you are safe and well. 

Your beloved acting lieutenant,

Archie

*****

Gibraltar Bay, _Le Reve_

Dearest Archie:

I must apologise yet again; I received your last letter just as we were leaving port, and I've been unable to find a moment to properly reply until now - and even this is written in more haste than I would like.

I am sorry to hear about the circumstances in which you find yourself. If your tongue has not gotten you into trouble _yet_ , then feel free to unleash your pent-up venom onto paper; you know, I trust, that I am here when you need someone to listen to the things that can't be said aloud.

I am to have a guest, as well, though not quite so interesting as yours. Our mission was a success, and we have claimed _Le Reve_ , one of the French supply ships, and I have been ordered to sail her to Portsmouth, escorting the Duchess of Wharfedale along. She is an unexpected character, but I'm optimistic that our journey will be an easy one, and that her presence won't much disrupt the general order of things.

It seems unlikely that our ships should cross any time soon, but if they did, rest assured I would not hesitate to climb the masthead to return your wave. I must face that fear in the line of duty; surely I can do so for my dearest friend, as well.

I'll write again when next we make port. Until then, I hope all goes well for you, and that I soon hear news of your safe and successful return.

I remain, as always,

Your Horatio

*****

Muzillac, HMS _Montague_

My Dearest Captain Horatio, -

I felt I should change your title as you will clearly rise in the ranks much faster than I, given that you are to command a ship so soon after your promotion to lieutenant. I am pleased to hear you have a safe and easy journey ahead of you, and it will perhaps give you ample time to make up for your hasty letter. 

As for my own mission, the men have not settled in working alongside the French men. I'm sure even you would have found some amusement when a fight broke out over sharing a chicken. I hear comments, but I am loath to punish them for it would make me a hypocrite; I am not entirely sure I trust General Charette and his men myself. 

The Major has begun to serve as an agreeable ally, but I believe it would only be that we share a common displeasure with the actions of Colonel Moncoutant. The man is positively bedevilled; interested only in his own personal folly. I daren’t count the number of lives he has mercilessly ended of the people in Muzillac – it is a wonder that he expected anyone to welcome him back at all. 

I am grateful to be able to have duties to carry out at the bridge away from the bloodshed– however, I am scared, Horatio. I don’t want to die in someone else’s war. I would not speak of this panic I feel to anyone but you. But as you so often say, if it is our orders, then it must be done without hesitation; your strong sense of duty is rubbing off on me, my noble friend. 

I look forward to the next time you write, my Horatio. 

Dutifully yours,

Archie

HMS _Montague_

My Dearest Horatio, -

I thought to write you again, should you be particularly busy in your duties concerning the Duchess of Wharfedale. I hope that I would not distract you if that were the case. Much to my own amusement, I find myself jealous of her Grace that she gets to keep your company until her journey is complete.

Our mission ended in retreat, and we have now set sail to return what is left of the army we brought. The French Revolutionaries intercepted General Charette's plans and, unfortunately, he died at their hands. As did Colonel Moncoutant, however, I don’t believe his presence in Muzillac will be much missed. I had never before seen a guillotine being used and I would consider my life all the better should I never see it used again. So much for ending the war.

I must admit to you of my failures, Horatio - I was given the task of blowing up the bridge to hold off the enemy, but, with some of our men still in Muzillac, I couldn’t bring myself to light the fuse, for I would have condemned them to death. I fear you would have been disappointed in me had you been there. 

I take small comfort that I was able to help one officer across, who was injured from battle, before the bridge collapsed, but it does little to restore my reputation as an acting lieutenant.

I hope this letter finds you well, my dearest friend. 

Your Archie

HMS _Montague_

My Dear Horatio, -  
  
I find myself at a loss for words as my return home has been a peaceful one. My days have been spent missing you, Horatio, and wondering on how you are faring.

As each day passes with silence I find my heart breaks further. 

You have become more dear to me than you can imagine. 

For now, I shall find comfort in reading your previous letters again, and hope that word will reach me soon of your well-being. 

Your Archie

HMS _Montague_

My Dearest Horatio, -

I have become aware, during my time of knowing you, that I feel more for you than I have anyone else in my life. The many months without hearing from you are not worth thinking about.

Horatio, there has been a question plaguing my mind and, due to the current circumstances, I can find some comfort in asking it knowing that this letter may never reach you.

Do you believe one can fall in love with someone they have never met?

Still, forever yours,

Archie

HMS _Montague_

My Love, Horatio, -

I cannot bring myself to fear the worst, so once again I find some comfort in writing to you. 

When I am not reading your previous letters, I am busying myself with a book of Shakespeare’s Sonnets; one in particular I keep returning to - 

_"Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_   
_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._   
_If this be error and upon me proved,_   
_I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”_

I miss you, Horatio - please come back to me.

Eternally yours,

Your Archie

*****

El Ferrol

My Dear Archie:

All the reassurances you’ve made, insisting that I made it to lieutenant by skill and not by luck, are for naught, and the situation I find myself in proves that.

One wrong decision, an overly cautious change in direction to be sure we steered clear of Cape St. Vincent in heavy fog, instead led us right to the waiting enemy.

And so it is that I now find myself in El Ferrol, waiting in a Spanish prison, for escape, or rescue, or the end of the war.

My only comfort is your last letter, which I had on my person at the time of capture. But that is not half so comforting as being allowed to _send_ a letter would be. I desperately wish I could set your mind at ease, but this is a request they’ve refused. 

This letter is an exercise in futility. If you are to receive it, I know not when that will be.

I’m sorry, my friend.

Horatio

El Ferrol

Dearest Archie:

Time passes slowly, with nothing to do but sit, and think, and read. My captors have, at least, been gracious enough to grant me a book - in their language, of course - and a lexicon, so I’ve slowly been working at learning Spanish.

As I do, I keep thinking how much easier it would be if you were here with me. You could prompt me in pronunciation, give me someone to practice with. Speaking a language, as I’m sure you know, is a much different matter than seeing it on paper.

The effort to read in that way is taxing, but it requires all my focus and keeps me from dwelling on my current situation. However, I have another book, as well: I recently found myself in possession of a play about a certain prince of Denmark, which taxes my mind in a different way. When this is through, I imagine I will have much to discuss with you.

Yours ever,

Horatio

El Ferrol

My Dearest Archie:

Though she was given other means of transport back to England when our ship was taken, Her Grace the Duchess of Wharfedale has found herself back here, as well. While I wish she had reached her destination safely, her arrival is not without benefit. At her request, I’m allowed two hours a day of parole to walk free, as her companion, wandering over the headlands along the sea. It’s a welcome respite from the confines of the prison.

Still, the men are getting restless. They want to escape, and I fear they see me as Hamlet, delaying action with one excuse or another. I have reasons, though, which I cannot share with them any more than I can with you. 

I would not wish this situation upon you, but I find myself wishing you were here with me. I imagine it would still be dreadful, being trapped here, but I can’t help but think it would be more bearable if you . . .

El Ferrol

Dearest Archie:

I’ve come to learn that the Duchess of Wharfedale is no such thing; she is, in fact, an actress, by the name of Kitty Cobham. It’s a name that means little to me, but I assume that you, who as I recall, “knew Drury Lane like it was your home,” will recognise it instantly. She was more than a bit surprised, I must say, when I took an immediate interest, asking what she had played in - she mentioned Cleopatra, Lady Macbeth, Beatrice, and Gertrude, though I’m sure you know that already. “A man like yourself, interested in the theatre?” she asked. I admitted I was not, exactly, but that I had a friend who was, prompting her to ask for more details.

Never has my two hours of exercise passed so quickly, Archie. I began by answering about what shows you liked best, your opinions on characters, and so on. Before I knew it, it was time to return.

I hadn’t before realised just how much you reside in my thoughts. Perhaps that is why I’ve been writing all these letters which may never reach your hands; I can imagine your reply, and almost convince myself that the ache in my chest is a fleeting thing.

Horatio

El Ferrol

Archie:

The Duchess - Kitty - asks after you every day, and I find I’m never short on things to tell her.

“You seem quite taken with this friend of yours, Mr. H,” she said today on our walk.

I, of course, dismissed the idea out of hand, but she wouldn’t hear of it, instead pointing out how much time I’d spent talking about you - the fact that she _asked_ was not considered enough of a justification to explain this away, apparently - and how much happier I seemed when I was. “It’s like you actually _like_ something, Mr. H,” she said, “instead of being miserable all the time.”

I’ve now had hours on my own to dwell on this. I still am not sure what to make of it.

Horatio

El Ferrol

Archie, My Dear Heart:

My men, as I feared would happen, acted before I was ready. The escape attempt failed, and I took the punishment for it, being placed in a cell dug into the ground, grated and exposed to the elements, scarcely big enough to sit in. I was kept there for a week.

The physical discomfort was nothing compared to the mental anguish. I felt my mind was going to break, Archie. As if I would surely lose my wits, unable to move as I was.

I tried to distract myself, and what kept coming back to mind was the thought of you, and what Kitty said.

I don’t know that she is correct in what she was implying. But when I thought of you, I felt more myself, as if you were an anchor holding my mind in place. I thought of what it would be like to have you waiting when I was finally pulled out of my dungeon, and I knew I had to hold on. I thought of your encouragements, and your jokes, and your chides, and I was able to push through.

I do not know what this means, Archie. But I know now that you are a piece of me, and I hope that I may see freedom soon, and that we may never again be parted like this.

Eternally yours,

Horatio

Horatio stood, looking at the collection of letters he had stashed away until now. The order had come: He was free to leave, and as a final favor, his captors had agreed to send a message for him. He had thought, at the beginning of his time here, that he would mail all that he’d written once his sentence reached its end. But how could he send these? They were unseemly, possibly immoral, and brought him dangerously close to a capital offense. More than that, how would they sound to Archie? The ravings of a desperate prisoner, no doubt. Perhaps that’s what he was. Maybe all he needed was to get back to his routine aboard the _Indefatigable_ , and everything would go back to normal, and this gnawing sensation that was growing stronger by the day would finally go away. It was a wish to be free, and nothing more.

El Ferrol

Dearest Archie:

I cannot begin to apologise for how long it has been. Perhaps you’ll have heard by now, but _Le Reve_ was taken, and for the last several months, I have been held a prisoner at El Ferrol.

I will endeavor to tell you more over the course of several letters, but I must write this in haste before I finally board to freedom. I wanted you to know, though, as soon as possible, that I was alive and well.

There is one small detail I must include, in spite of my urgency: The Duchess turned out to be no such thing, but an actress named Kitty Cobham. After hearing from me about how much of a fan of the theatre you are, she sends her regards, and further states that if she finds a new role on Drury Lane, she would be happy to have you, nay, _insists_ , that you come watch a performance, as her guest.

Your poor servant ever,

Horatio

This new, more straightforward letter penned, he left what had been his home for the last several months, and handed it over to his former captors to mail. He only hoped that the Spanish post was at all reliable, and that it would reach Archie sooner rather than later.

The others, he carried with him. But at his first opportunity, he set a lantern flame to them. Best to be rid of them as soon as possible.

He was not surprised, when he finally returned to the _Indefatigable_ , to find a stack of letters in the familiar handwriting.

He was not prepared for the contents.

He read them a second time. Then, the later letters, a third and fourth time each. The final letter, he read another two times after that.

 _“Eternally yours.”_ Slender fingers ran over the words that connected them, again, and again, and again, as Horatio cursed that he had burned his own.

Eventually, he sat to try to pen a response, but found himself unable to do so. In the confines of the prison, everything had seemed so far away, and anything was possible. Now, reality was setting back in, and he found he couldn’t put to paper what had come so easily before; every word was a struggle, and every note of affection now had an immense weight attached to it.

HMS _Indefatigable_

My Dearest Archie:

I’ve just received the letters from you which I so dearly missed during my imprisonment. I wish I could comment on your mission, but I imagine that’s not what you’re most eager to hear about, at any rate. Still, I would be remiss if I did not tell you that I don’t think any less of you for your actions. You did as you thought was right.

Words are failing me, I’m afraid. But to answer the question you dared to ask:

I do not know for sure. But I do not think it impossible.

Yours, now and always,

Horatio

*****

Captured and imprisoned all this time; his poor Horatio. Archie felt sick at the thought, but equally relieved to know of his safety. As he read through the two letters again, a creeping sense of worry set in remembering the letters he himself had sent during Horatio’s absence.

He found, for the first time, he was unable to read Horatio’s meaning in the letters. The first made no mention of missing him; mostly tales of Kitty Cobham, a voracious character whom Archie had indeed known of. And as for his second letter, it seemed as though he had upset Horatio. Colour flushed his cheeks as he felt embarrassed having let himself get carried away with his own feelings. 

Archie had to reply, although he found he was equally at a loss for words. Whilst Horatio had said he was his, _now and always_ , Archie decided it would be best to not mention his own unprompted declaration of love.

HMS _Montague_

Dearest Horatio, -

It brings me great joy to hear that you are safe, although the details of your capture bring me no happiness at all; how you survived it I will never know.

What a strange turn of events that you should cross paths with Ms. Cobham – a fine actress she is, I have seen many of her plays. She is never without a number of admirers with her charm, it does not surprise me that she managed to fool even you with her act as The Duchess.

With your letters came news to the captain that I am to be transferred, and promoted no less, to the _Renown_ under Captain Sawyer due to my apparent bravery at the bridge in Muzillac. I feel honoured but undeserving of such an opportunity.

I hope to hear more of your great escape from El Ferrol in your next letter.

Yours,

Archie

*****

It had been a week since receiving Archie’s last letter. 

Horatio hadn’t replied. What would be the point? Some force, be it fate or chance, had intervened, and now they were going to meet before a letter would have found its way to the other man.

It was just as well. He didn’t know how to respond to this rapid turnaround. He hadn’t used so many words, but he thought his meaning, his answer to Archie’s question, had been clear enough. And yet, no mention of it was to be found in this latest correspondence. 

He must have misinterpreted, somehow. Perhaps the question was about someone else. Perhaps the sonnet was simply an old favorite he liked the sound of. 

He didn’t know how to explain away “My love, Horatio.” So he tried instead to simply put it from his mind.

He was relieved, once again, that he hadn’t sent the letters he wrote in prison.

But now he would be meeting his Archie - no, not _his_ , evidently, simply _Archie_ \- within the hour. He felt an absolute wreck, more ill-prepared for this than for any mission he’d been assigned.

They would at least be shipmates, at long last, and the letter gave no indication that they were not still friends. Still, he would not act untoward. He would wait, and see how Archie reacted to him before making any overtures himself, friendly or otherwise. Either way, he would be courteous, and he would do his duty. He could not hold it against Archie for his own failure to read the situation correctly.

So now he stood, waiting on deck. And when the young lieutenant came aboard, Horatio managed not to stare. When he spoke, Horatio managed to keep his focus on the task at hand, despite wanting to mentally run through every letter he’d received, now that he had finally heard the voice that should accompany the words he knew so well. And when the first lieutenant led the young man over to formally introduce Archie Kennedy to Horatio Hornblower, he resisted the urge to pull Archie into an embrace, and instead simply smiled politely and held out his hand.

*****

_“Horatio Hornblower, Third Lieutenant”_

Archie's name tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could think to stop him, and time seemed to stand still as the realisation sunk in that here, in front of him, was Horatio. _His Horatio._

He was more striking than he ever could have imagined, and Archie found himself speechless at not only the surprise of meeting unexpectedly, but Horatio’s handsome sculpted features. 

There was no sign of shock or sudden revelation on Horatio’s face, as he was sure was plastered upon his own, and he found that the other man’s expression was disappointingly unreadable.

The man who had written him such open and honest letters was now guarded and reserved. Archie wasn't sure if it was his stiff, dutiful manner that made Horatio retract his hand so quickly after their introduction, or if the other man simply now felt uncomfortable from his touch. 

He also found the formality of his name in Horatio's voice quite jarring. _Mr. Kennedy_. How he longed for the times when he was so affectionately called Dearest Archie, and longed more to hear it from his lips.

The next few days were prickly at best. They had spoken of course, but it had been of duties and other banal small talk. Nothing like they previously shared in their letters. _Damn._ Had he foolishly expected that should they ever meet, there would be no end of excitement or frivolous chatter? The harsh reality of their suffocating silence pained him. 

Archie cursed himself yet again for throwing away the only true friendship he had ever had by wearing his heart on his sleeve. His father was right; he spent too long with his head in the clouds. 

He reread the letters sometimes, but only when he could be sure Horatio was on watch. Archie supposed he should have been using that time to sleep, but it rarely came since he climbed aboard the _Renown_ , and without the release of writing his deepest thoughts to Horatio, he found himself plagued once again with nightmares. 

So he found comfort the only way he knew how anymore - by reading the beautiful words his old friend had written: _Yours, now and always._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archie and Horatio have finally met in person, but it's not what they hoped it would be - and on top of their uncertain feelings for each other, they must deal with the volatile Captain Sawyer.

Captain Sawyer was mad.

Captains could be strict, some more than others. That in itself wasn’t unusual. But to do what he had done...

Horatio had had to act quickly, for the preservation of the ship itself in the midst of the storm. But then the captain had not only decided to quibble over pedantics - which he had every right to do - but to punish his men for it in a way that was hardly justified. And because of that, a young man who had done nothing wrong lay dead, splattered across the deck.

And Captain Sawyer had not even batted an eye.

He couldn’t discuss this with anyone. Talking to the wrong person, being _overheard_ by the wrong person, could land a person in dire trouble no matter the subject, that much was already clear aboard this ship. But this topic of discussion in particular could very well be a death sentence.

A few weeks ago, he knew what he would have done, who he would have turned to, for comfort. But Archie, who he’d long dreamed of meeting, was tepid towards him at best, and Horatio despaired with every stilted interaction. But tonight…

“Hell,” he mumbled to himself, stumbling over to his desk. He had nothing more to lose. Perhaps Archie wouldn’t be welcoming of the letter, but he felt reasonably sure, at the very least, that he wasn’t the sort to turn him over to the captain. Not his Archie, who delighted in plays, who hated the sight of the guillotine, who couldn’t bear to let his men die through his actions.

He would leave it waiting upon Archie’s hammock. If it was unwanted, Archie could dispose of it easily enough. But he prayed it would not come to that.

Dearest Archie:

You once asked me if I believed it possible for a person to fall in love with someone whom they’d never met.

Now, I pose to you that question’s opposite:

Do you believe one can miss someone they see every day?

Yours in hope, still,

Horatio

*****

The ship was run by fools and jesters.

If it wasn’t blundering orders from the first lieutenant, it was double rations of rum and insensible fights below deck. And that wasn’t even the half of it – the punishments from the captain seemed worst of all, and grew increasingly erratic as the days went on. The threat of death lingered in the air.

After the night of the storm, and the arrival of Second Lieutenant Bush, tensions on the _Renown_ became unbearable. “ _What an honour it is to serve under such an esteemed Captain_ ,” Bush had said. Archie couldn’t help his tongue as he questioned the merit on which he knew of Captain Sawyer: As a fighting hero or as a man? And he took small delight in seeing a brief glimpse at _his_ Horatio as he rolled his eyes and failed to withhold a small smirk at Archie’s lack of discretion.

But Horatio and Mr. Bush seemed to have a shared sense of tact and duty - Archie had seen them talking in hushed tones, words from his friend that he was not privy to. It had hurt him. But this was no time for jealousy, he told himself. The Captain had turned his anger onto the youngest midshipman, and as Archie saw a lot of himself in the boy, he wished more than ever to discuss these feelings as he once had, with Horatio. 

Finally, a ray of hope came in the form of a letter – Archie had almost not believed it when he saw it, tucked under his pillow. Its contents though left much to be debated, and he winced at the mention of his former question. But now Horatio had posed one of his own. However, due to the recent events aboard the ship, Archie had hardly a moment to formulate a reply, nevermind write it. He had briefly considered talking to Horatio in person but the gunner was keen to be the captain’s eyes and ears, often waiting in the shadows to catch something that would hang a man.

But he didn’t want to leave Horatio waiting any longer. With him on watch until six bells, Archie had some time to pen a reply. He had told himself he would be more reserved, and not wear his heart on his sleeve this time, but as he started writing he found he could not stop himself as the words spilled out onto the page.

Dearest Horatio, -

I believe there is only one reply to your question; wholeheartedly, yes.

For being apart from you caused me great pain, but nothing as great as seeing you every day and living in silence.

Forever yours,

Archie

*****

Even in El Ferrol, a week hadn't felt so long. 

Horatio tried to find reassurance in the fact that Archie seemed to have warmed a little towards him. They had nothing near the conversations they'd had in their letters, but it was more than it had been for those first agonizing weeks. Even so, he didn't want to hope too far, in case he was once again seeing things that weren't there.

He was glad for Bush, who had become an unexpected companion; Horatio found the other man competent and sensible.

"Something on your mind?" Bush asked him quietly. To his shame, he jerked with surprise; he was on the third day of watch and watch, and while he hadn't been dozing, he hadn't been entirely awake, either. It hadn't been so bad at first, one watch on and one watch off until further notice, and certainly it had seemed a better alternative than what had been done to poor Wellard, whose only crimes had been to be alert and act quickly to prevent a terrible outcome. But this punishment was starting to catch up with him, his body rebelling against the lack of a full night of sleep, every bit of rest he managed just leaving him more fatigued than before.

Perhaps that was why he was a little more loose with his tongue than he would be otherwise. He didn't say much, just that he worried he had somehow done wrong to a friend he was in contact with, and that he greatly desired to mend things, but had yet to hear back.

Bush, to his credit, didn't try to offer superficial advice or hollow guidance; "Hard luck," he had stated simply, and added that he hoped things would work out. It changed nothing, but the words nevertheless offered Horatio some relief.

But not as much as he found when he lay down after his watch and heard a crinkle under his pillow.

His eyes blurred as he held the letter in shaking hands - he thought vaguely that the lack of sleep must truly be wearing on him.

But he had a reply. And with it, proof that Archie missed him the same way he missed Archie.

It was days before he was able to write his reply, every spare moment spent either in sleep or in avoidance of others. But despite the dismal atmosphere of the ship, his step was lighter, knowing all was not lost.

My ~~Ar~~ Dearest Archie:

We are of the same mind, then. I thought I knew loneliness, but solitude, I now realise, is not the same. Without our conversations, I feel as though a piece of my life is missing.

If I have offended somehow, please, let me know how I may make it up to you, so we can put this behind us. Now, more than ever, I wish to know my most precious friend is by my side.

Yours, eternally,

Horatio

*******

The first time Wellard had taken an unjust beating, Archie had tried to stay on deck out of respect, but with every crack of the rattan he felt his stomach lurch. He was fond of Wellard, and now Archie feared that by coming to his aid, he had only made things worse for the poor boy.

The Captain was raving; convinced that officers were planning mutiny, he was inflicting irrational and dangerous punishments. Even Bush was beginning to see the madness that was only increasing with each day.

Archie still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of William Bush. The times they had spoken were often short and clipped, with Bush reminding Archie sharply of his place on the ship. But with Horatio busy with his unfathomable punishment, it had given them a considerable amount of time alone in their quarters.

He had learned three things. The man did not enjoy reading, and had raised his eyebrow curiously when he noticed Archie’s sea chest was mostly filled with books. No words that he spoke ever seemed to be frivolous and he did not indulge Archie in any small talk. And, finally, he would always make sure there was a tankard of water and a ration of food by Horatio’s bed for after his watch.

Archie supposed he should be jealous, but then found himself tracing the words “yours, eternally” on his most recent letter. He had barely slept the night he found it as he pondered if Horatio had accidentally almost written “My Archie”. 

And it wasn’t as if the atmosphere between the two of them was as frigid as it was in the first few months; it had softened enough that they spoke more freely and often now.

They had begun to share unspoken exchanges; even though they had not spent long in each other’s physical company, Archie knew he could see the fear in those deep brown eyes that he felt too – the Captain was soon to end them all, and something needed to be done before it was too late.

My Dearest Horatio, -

You have not offended me my dear sweet friend. I merely felt ashamed of my outpouring of affection in my letters during your imprisonment. I was a lonely fool and can only hope you would be the one to forgive me.

I have longed to talk to you during this journey of the madness that the captain has embarked upon. Poor Wellard; it is an injustice, Horatio. He is sure to bring us all down with him.

Meet me, Horatio – in the main hold tonight at eight bells.

Your loving fool,

Archie

*****

Horatio's chest ached as he read the letter. His precious Archie. He longed to hold him close, to tell him that there was no shame in what he had done. To tell him that he had done the same, only he had been fool enough to burn those words, too much of a coward to bare himself the way Archie had.

But even if he dared to say such a thing, there were other matters to attend to. The safety of the ship came first; otherwise, they were all doomed, and none of this would matter. His feelings, whatever they were, would have to wait.

He read the letter over, committing it to memory as best he could. Then he put it to the flame. It hurt, feeling like he was destroying a piece of his heart rather than a piece of paper, but he didn't dare leave any shred of evidence of what they were about to do.

They did meet that evening, he and Archie and the other lieutenants, as well. The captain wasn't fit for command; on that point, they all agreed. Less simple was the matter of what to _do_ with that information - it was, after all, mutiny that they were discussing, a thought that never left Horatio's mind, even if Buckland seemed not to have thought that far ahead. He could perfectly imagine the trial, the way Sawyer would spin everything, the fact that every little thing that was driving them to the breaking point would seem no more or less than was to be expected in the Royal Navy when spoken in front of an audience.

But no decision was to be reached this night. Fate - or, more specifically, Wellard - intervened before they could come to an agreement. Horatio didn't think as he directed everyone where to go, only focused on the fact that they had to act quickly to prevent being caught. And so it was that he found himself heading aft, practically dragging Wellard with him, not wanting to see the young midshipman receive any more unjustified punishment than he'd already borne.

They started climbing the first ladder they saw, making their way towards the lower deck, but ducked down when they saw Captain Sawyer moving in from above. Horatio breathed a sigh of relief to see him move in the forward direction of the ship - he couldn't be sure if the others, if _Archie_ , were clear of the area, but he couldn't squander this small opening. He shifted his weight to hold the side of the steps, urging Wellard past him while the captain was preoccupied, assuming the young man would make his way to the upper deck.

But as he peered out from his hiding place, that's not what happened at all.

He didn't realise what he was watching until it was too late to stop it.

He couldn't blame Wellard, not after everything he'd suffered through. Not when the lieutenants, better equipped for such pressures, were themselves ready to take action. Not when he himself had been ready to do near enough to the same thing on the _Justinian_ all those years ago.

There wasn't a choice. Acting as if he had just come from above, he strode towards the hatch the captain had been pushed through, habit taking over as he endeavored to bring order to the situation, gently guiding the others towards the proper protocol when they hesitated. For all his calm demeanor, however, only two thoughts cycled through his mind.

He had to protect Wellard.

And he couldn't let anyone find out the truth. _Anyone_ , he reiterated to himself, as he found himself under the discerning gaze of the one man who knew him almost better than he knew himself.

******

Archie was surprised; he was unsure if Horatio would meet him along with Buckland, but he had never expected Bush would also join them. The man may have been quiet, but he had clearly observed and disapproved of the volatile actions aboard the _Renown_. 

It was difficult – the behaviour of the Captain could be easily explained away to those who were not there to see it, and he was sure to have the support from his long serving and loyal crew, as few as they may be. Not to mention his reputation as one of Nelson’s own. But, before they could formulate any sort of plan, it all spiralled out of control.

Marines were alerted when Horatio was not on his expected watch, and Wellard had come to warn them before they were caught, forcing Horatio to direct them all into different parts of the ship. 

Archie faltered, not wanting to separate himself from Horatio, but these precious wasted seconds had stopped him from escaping to the upper deck as Bush and Buckland had done. Now, with marines swarming everywhere, he had no option other than to hide behind the staircase that led above. 

Horatio and Wellard had gone in the opposite direction, and it pained him that he couldn’t be certain they had also made it to a safe hiding place. Archie was aware of the captain’s footsteps along the lower deck, and as he stole a glance around the edge of the staircase, he found he couldn’t see Horatio. 

But Wellard was there, with the Captain only a few feet in front of him.

The young midshipman’s form could just about be seen in the dim light of the lantern, and it was almost as if in slow motion he saw the boy’s pale hands thrust out in front of him, a gasp, and then a pistol shot.

Archie released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. They all managed to untangle themselves from their hiding spots to be at Wellard’s side before the marines arrived, alerted from the sound of the gun. Of course, his ever capable Horatio had dealt with the situation quickly and firmly; “It would appear the Captain fell.”

But that night, as the four lieutenants attempted sleep in their hammocks, there was an uneasy silence in the room. In the darkness, Archie felt he could almost hear Horatio thinking; he pictured him frowning, trying to formulate a plan. He couldn’t find out the truth, he was burdened with enough – it was best that Horatio believed his own declaration;

_The Captain had fallen._

_*****_

The next days passed in a whirlwind for Horatio. He was still on watch and watch - and as much as he would have liked for Buckland to overrule his punishment, he saw the sense in continuing as things were - which meant that at any given moment, he was either asleep, on call, or trying to ensure that everything flowed smoothly, that nothing was given away to anyone.

But especially to Archie.

Even before they began opening up to each other once again, he couldn’t help watching Archie, memorizing every detail, trying to complete the puzzle that had been forming in his mind for the last seven years. So it was impossible to miss his concern for the midshipman, his efforts to take the young man under his wing. 

Archie couldn’t know the truth of what happened. He’d gone through so much already. He didn’t need to find out that his faith was misplaced - as indeed it wasn’t, to Horatio’s mind; he hardly thought this one action made up the whole of Wellard’s character.

Gradually, things became easier. Not _easy_ \- it was difficult to not let his impatience get the better of him when the doctor waffled on a decision, when Buckland wouldn’t commit to a course of action - but better. The air of fear that had been on the ship began to dissipate, and the crew, which had grown lax with all the extra rum rations, gave signs of their discipline being restored. Running successful drills on the cannons opposite Bush did wonders for his confidence in what lay ahead.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said of its effect on his physical state. It left him hot and exhausted, and with only a few minutes left before his next watch, he couldn’t collapse into his hammock as he would have liked. Searching for a way to snap himself back to alertness, he hit upon an idea.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have made the same decision if he were more awake - of course, _were_ he more awake, it wouldn’t have been necessary - but at the time, appearing naked in front of his shipmates seemed a trifling matter, complete privacy being a rare thing regardless. Even later, though, he had no regrets; he felt refreshed and focused, fully capable of keeping a sharp watch, and, more than that, of mentally composing a long overdue reply to Archie. As soon as he got back to his quarters, he resolved, he would set the words down quickly and leave the letter in its place before finally letting himself lay down to rest. The teasing that surrounded him was a small price to pay for such a result.

My Dearest Archie:

I know there are other issues at hand, and perhaps it is frivolous to discuss anything else at the moment. However, I could not bear the thought of you being so hard on yourself for one moment longer.

I’m sorry to say you are indeed foolish, for you have done nothing that needs to be forgiven. There is nothing in your letters that I found shameful, though I now fear my lack of words may have made you think otherwise.

Please know, my dear one, that you were not the only “lonely fool” during those months apart. 

I still do not know for certain the answer to the question you posed before. But I do know that I grew to care more deeply about someone I had never met than I ever had anyone before. I hope, for the time being, that will be enough to bring you comfort.

Yours, ever yours,

Horatio

*****

The ship’s tension had eased. 

For now, Wellard was safe from the accusations and punishments of Sawyer. Without being under constant scrutiny, Archie noticed him begin to flourish under Horatio’s command, proving himself to be a fine midshipman indeed. 

He couldn’t tell Horatio the truth; not now he had placed so much faith in the boy. He remembered how much Horatio had tortured himself when he was unable to save one of the hands in his own division as he succumbed to stealing and desertion. It would surely break him if he knew of the sin Wellard had committed. 

Buckland had found himself thrust into command of the _Renown_ , something the fool seemed to be unaware would happen, and his fear of making a decision was apparent with the ship now rolling ungainly on the long swells of the Atlantic as she sat off the coast of Santa Domingo. 

Horatio had tried in vain to hide his seasickness, but they had all heard him wretching as the ship wallowed under another vast torrent of the sea. 

Damn the man for being stubborn enough to try to stand on watch while he was such a ghastly shade of green. Archie had tried to cheer him up by regaling him with a story he had heard of a midshipman who was seasick in Spithead of all places, but Horatio only frowned and stalked to the opposite side of the deck. While he was considerably honest in his letters, Archie discovered the other man was more restrained in person, and often found himself somewhat amused at not understanding Horatio’s annoyance at his comments. 

Back in their quarters, Horatio was asleep in his hammock after another watch - a punishment Archie loathed to see still in effect despite the shift in command. 

He pressed his hand gently to Horatio’s forehead to check for fever, relieved to find there was none, when it occurred to him that he had never touched his face before. Archie let his hand linger a trifle too long before withdrawing it. Seeing a bead of sweat run down the other man’s face, he was reminded of the events from the previous week. 

What in the Devil had Horatio been thinking? It was a common practice to see other shipmates in a state of undress in such close quarters, but this outrageous public display was so out of character for his Horatio. He wondered if his face had betrayed him as his eyes had traced his glistening body. Bush had looked at him thoughtfully, but if he suspected anything, he had kept it to himself. 

Archie smiled as he crossed the room to the desk. He had already told Buckland that he would cover Horatio’s watch after his own, regardless of how stubborn he was determined to be. The captain was out of commission for now, and Horatio deserved to rest for a little longer. 

Dearest Horatio, -

I do not expect an answer to my question; only your unwavering friendship and loyalty. It would be most unjust to ask more of you, and I would not forgive myself should I lose you for it. 

However, I feel as of this moment that I would not be able to trust your judgement given the display you gave on deck. How very bold; a moment that will not soon be forgotten, I’m sure.

Please rest, my dear Horatio. I need you well, should Buckland finally decide to act the part of Captain. 

Yours, forever and always,

Archie

*****

There was no time for Horatio to write a reply. 

He'd barely tucked away the latest note from Archie when the ship ran aground. From there, it wasn't long at all before they decided to attempt to take the fort, to use the advantage of surprise to overtake the enemy. 

They had been successful. The day was theirs, and prisoners were being led onto the ship. And within minutes, the fort would be demolished.

No, no time for another letter. Nor anything else, soon enough.

There was no coming back from this. They all knew it. It was fine; he was willing to do what needed to be done. He only had one regret.

Nimble hands worked quickly, and he found himself soon working without conscious thought, allowing his mind to drift to the only thing that mattered. 

Archie.

He thought of his bravery, his loyalty, his wit. Of his smile, his love of Shakespeare, his heart.

He thought of his annoyance when Archie had teased about his fear of heights. His annoyance, and his affection.

He thought of the unfamiliar pang he felt when Archie had laughed along with the jabs Mr. Bush had made at his expense.

He thought of how Archie looked after they'd freed the ship from the mud, spent and disheveled and yet still so beautiful.

He would hang, if the substance of his thoughts was to be made known. But that hardly seemed to matter now.

He only wished he’d had the opportunity for a proper goodbye, saying all the things he thought he'd have so much more time to say. It was nonsensical, to compose a letter that would never find paper, and yet he could see it clearly in his mind.

_Beloved Archie:_

_If you want my friendship and loyalty, they are yours. That, and so much more. All I am is yours, my dear one. I'm only sorry I couldn't bring myself to realise it until now._

_Be well, my love._

_Eternally yours,_

_Horatio_

*****

  
  
Archie hadn’t even considered not following Horatio into the fort - if he was to die, they would do so together. There was no other option. 

They had reboarded the _Renown_ to cheers from the crew, but with the Spanish prisoners aboard and preparations to set sail underway, they had barely a moment to spare to celebrate their victory.

A weight bore down on Archie’s shoulders as he worked. He had known it, and mused upon it, since he had boarded the ship and met his Horatio for the first time. _The man was beautiful_ \- he longed to embrace him, to hold him during their idle time; to look at him and study his face with more than just stolen glances. But these thoughts carried a death sentence and with Horatio being such a man of duty, he knew deep down that these feelings would never be returned. 

But still, Archie knew from the way he signed off their letters and the kind smile that was reserved for him alone that Horatio felt _something_ ; they were each other's beloved, regardless of how the other interpreted it. And with their potential court martial ever looming, he knew more than ever that his time was running out. 

My Horatio, -

I am sure you are waiting for a moment of quiet to chastise me for my actions at the fort. But it is becoming increasingly apparent that as Kingston, and whatever waits for us there, draws closer, I must tell you why;-

I could not leave you to light the fuse. Our souls are entwined - you have, and always will be, my companion through life, and everything you face, I too wish to face at your side. 

I am now, and will forever be,

Your Archie

*****

Horatio woke, surrounded by darkness, in the hospital cell. The pain in his right shoulder was dull but persistent, but grew steadily sharper with every passing moment he spent staring at the ceiling. 

The prisoners had broken free. He clenched his jaw thinking about it, wondering just how lackadaisical the guard had been, how much the earlier lack of discipline encouraged by Sawyer had flourished under Buckland's indecisiveness. It was fortunate that their crew had been split in order to manage the prize vessels, but it would have been far better to have no fight at all; the bullet he had gotten in the way of was among the _least_ of the damage.

Growing restless, he started to sit up, only to choke back a cry of pain as fire seemed to rip through his arm before he fell back into unconsciousness.

When next he woke, daylight came in through the window, and the pain was somewhat muted. He was more deliberate in his movements this time, carefully bringing his left hand up to feel the damage, fingers running delicately over stitches that must have been applied in his sleep. With a sigh, he lay back, hoping the damage was not so great as to jeopardize his career. 

The ridiculousness of that thought came a moment later: There soon would be - if it wasn't happening already - a trial that would undoubtedly affect his career _far_ more than this. And even if they somehow came out of that unscathed, there was still...

He would have sat up with a start, had the intense pain not stopped him. The letter. Archie's letter, handed to him discreetly as he left to command the prize vessels, was read but still unanswered. And if the trial were indeed underway, he may not have much time. But with his arm the way it was, he wasn't sure he could produce anything legible, if indeed he could write anything at all.

There was a stirring nearby, and for the first time, he noticed Bush in the bed opposite him - clearly not in top condition himself, but looking better than Horatio felt, at least. When Bush noticed him looking, he nodded a greeting, and asked how he was doing.

Horatio, however, was not in the mood for small talk. "Mr. Bush,” he began. Then, “William," he amended quietly, his voice unexpectedly hoarse. He closed his eyes as he went on, desperately hoping that his next words would not prove to be a mistake. "What would you think of a man who was... who had feelings for another man?"

Bush was silent for a moment, before he answered with surprising gentleness, "I believe that what a man does on his own time is no one's business but his own."

Horatio let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Then... I have need of a favor."

Archie, My Heart:

Before your arrival at the fort, when I believed I would not survive, my only thought was of you. I realised then the truth I've been too afraid to admit to myself. You always were braver than I, my dear friend.

Even if I can't put it to paper just yet, I hope you will understand my meaning, just as you have always done, even from my first letter.

Yours, entirely,

Horatio

*****

Archie had despaired in his cramped cell after the first day of the trial; exhausted from the unrelenting heat and intense scrutiny of the courtroom. But most of all, he worried after Horatio. 

His legs had buckled from underneath him when he saw Horatio covered in blood, his own blood. Archie had rushed to him, but Horatio was whisked away by the surgeon before he had a chance to tell him it would be alright. _It had to be._

The news of Wellard had come later and, although Archie wept for the boy, he was grateful he would not face a shameful death should the truth come out in court. 

So far, the trial had not seemed hopeful. The panel of judges were particularly scathing towards Horatio’s conduct during the _Renown’s_ mission, with them refusing to see how the captain would have doomed them all without his heroic action.

After the first day in court, the admiral had kindly allowed Archie a visit to see Horatio in the sick bay, a cell similar to his own but with more beds - one of which was occupied by Bush with his own less serious injury. Both men were asleep when Archie had entered the room, so he had gently sat at the foot of Horatio’s bed. 

He tried to take in every detail of his face, now able to allow himself the luxury as Horatio slept peacefully. He thought back to the beginning; how a misplaced letter had changed the course of his life. He thought of all the times he had wished he could talk to Horatio, to hear the words he had read so often. Archie found a lump beginning to form in his throat as he thought himself impossibly honoured to have known him.

How could this man, this perfect man, have taken a bullet for him? Archie’s heart clenched, as he tried not to allow himself to be completely engulfed in his love for Horatio. He tenderly intertwined their fingers and stroked his thumb softly against the other man’s skin, relishing the feeling as he knew his visit was only to be brief. 

Archie’s eyes darted over as he realised Bush was not only awake, but meeting his gaze. He retracted his hand sharply, only to have the older man simply hold up his hand and shake his head. “You have nothing to fear from me, Mr. Kennedy” - he held an envelope in his outstretched hand. 

Back in his own cell, Archie could hardly make sense of it; the letter was from Horatio, but it was in another man’s handwriting. He blinked and read the letter again as his brain tried to formulate its meaning. He had trusted someone else, he supposed it was Bush, and he had been willing to face the noose to send him one final letter before their verdict from the trial was delivered. 

Before he could stop it, tears rolled down his cheeks, reading it over and over until sleep overcame him. 

The following morning, Archie was emotionally exhausted. And worse still, he had to face the panel. One last note, he thought, as he took out his pen and added his own message below Horatio’s. 

My Horatio, -

 _“But were you in my arms, dear love,_ _  
__The happiness would take my breath away,_ _  
__No thought could match that ecstasy,_ _  
__No song encompass it, no other worlds._ _  
__If I should think of love,_ _  
__I’d think of you.”_

Without you, I would have nothing to be brave for. 

Your Archie

  
  
*****

Horatio lay in his cell, silently willing his arm to heal faster.

The trial had ended three days ago, and by some miracle, they'd been found innocent. Archie had come to report as soon as it happened: Since there was no solid evidence for mutiny, their verdict declared that Sawyer was incapacitated by the fall, but that he died heroically in battle. His name would be preserved. As would Wellard's, who died alongside him.

Perhaps it wasn't justice, exactly. But it was right.

Pellew had come later, showing him the news, and more surprising, presenting him with orders for his command of the newly-named _Retribution_. Naturally, Horatio was eager to be there, overseeing the preparations, and though he would have pushed through the pain of his injury, he was ordered to stay in place, and would be for another day or two yet.

"How are you feeling today, Horatio?"

The soft voice stirred him out of his thoughts, drawing his attention to the entrance of his cell.

Archie.

"I keep telling you, I'm _fine_ ," he replied, perhaps a little more harshly than was warranted. He was grateful for the many visits, Archie's appearance lifting his boredom like the sun breaking through the clouds; why could he not seem to act in such a manner that reflected that? "You don't need to keep checking on me. Really, shouldn't the first lieutenant be at the ship?"

"The _Retribution_ is ready to sail," he answered, "you needn't worry. I would rather be here making sure her captain is well enough for the journey ahead."

Horatio couldn't help but let out a sigh at that. Archie wouldn't stop making a fuss over him. It was maddening. It was something that, from anyone else, would have been unwelcome. But from _him_... "Archie," he started, but then trailed off, not sure how to say what he wanted to say, what he _had_ wanted to say since receiving his most recent letter.

Archie frowned at that, concern spreading over his features. "Is something troubling you, Horatio? If it's about the ship--"

Horatio cut him off. "No, it's not that, it's just..." His gaze flicked to the side. "William, can you give us a moment?" 

The other man had ostensibly been reading, but Horatio knew that he was listening attentively; it wasn't as though Bush didn't know what was going on, as if they hadn’t spoken on this subject as the last few days had dragged along. But he gave a nod and excused himself, the cell door left open for them now that their innocence was decided.

Archie's gaze followed him as he left. Then, once they were alone, he sat cautiously at the edge of Horatio's bed. "Horatio," he said, his tone careful and quiet, "what's wrong?"

This was it. He didn't want to put it off anymore. All he had to do was say the words he'd memorized. He was about to be in command of an entire ship; surely he could say a few lines in front of one man.

But it wasn't just one man. It was Archie.

He took a deep breath; as he began, the only sign of his nervousness was the way his fingers were clenching the blanket.

_"Doubt thou the stars are fire,_   
_Doubt that the sun doth move,_   
_Doubt truth to be a liar,_   
_But never doubt I love."_

Archie was still for a moment, leaving Horatio more terrified than when he first started. Did he not feel the same, after all? After all they'd been through, all the letters...

And then Archie brought his hand to his mouth, trying - badly, Horatio thought - to hide the impish smile that was forming. "I’m sorry, Horatio, but that doesn’t quite mean what you think it does. It’s poor writing, intentionally so. Hamlet has some of the most eloquent speeches in Shakespeare, and yet if you look at his letter to Ophelia in comparison, it’s really-"

"Archie," Horatio interrupted sharply. "Is that really what you're taking away from this?"

The other man’s smile grew wider, and Horatio felt a sense of relief. Even if he _was_ still frustrated that Archie was like this. It would be the death of him.

"No, you fool," Archie answered gently. "But I should like to hear it in words that are your own."

"Archie. I..." But the words dried on his tongue. Why could he not simply say what he knew to be true?

Archie leaned down, taking Horatio's hand in his. "I know." His smile turned teasing once again as he went on. "It's not every day Horatio Hornblower quotes Shakespeare."

He was giving him an out. His dear Archie. He understood, as he always did. 

Which made Horatio more certain than ever.

He squeezed Archie's hand, then closed his eyes to compose himself for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked up to meet Archie's gaze, and the words flowed naturally. 

"Archie. I love you."

If Archie's very presence was the sun breaking through clouds, the smile he gave now was the most brilliantly clear day Horatio had ever experienced at sea. He wasn’t given to flights of fancy, but he thought he could plot any course, with that smile to guide him.

"And I love you, my Horatio."

Horatio exhaled slowly, able to breathe again, and smiled softly, unwilling to take his eyes away from Archie's, so deep and expressive. But then he remembered. "William," he said, clearing his throat. "You can come out now."

As if he hadn't been listening the entire time, Bush immediately walked back in, casually striding to his bed. "As you were, gentlemen," he stated simply, settling down with his book once again, flashing the two a look over the top before resuming his reading. Or, Horatio guessed, giving the appearance of such, at any rate.

But it didn't matter. He looked back to Archie, still smiling so brightly, and felt his own smile grow wider as he reached up with his good arm to cup Archie's face in his hand, running his thumb along his cheek.

They were here. Together. In spite of all that had befallen them, they had actually made it to this.

They had each other. 

Everything would be alright.


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years after the events aboard the Renown, Archie and Horatio prepare to make sail once again.

Archie lazily opened one eye, and as he moved, the cold morning air hit his bed-warm skin, causing him to move closer into the embrace of Horatio’s arms. These were his favourite times; watching as the other man slept peacefully, and thinking upon their last few years together spent entangled in the lodgings they had temporarily called home.

In their time on land during the peace, Horatio had taken more of an interest in literature, although it may have been Archie reading to him while draped across his lap that piqued his interest, rather than the intricate words of Shakespeare. He had even agreed to see a play on Drury Lane, as promised. 

Kitty had delighted in seeing them both, insisting in her usual manner that they join her after the performance for a drink. 

“Mr. H, I do believe I need to act the part of a minister to marry you two fine young gentlemen...” her mouth twitched into a smirk, “...lest you wish to live in sin a moment longer.”

Archie had rather enjoyed watching Horatio’s uncomfortable demeanour as he realised what she was trying to imply. He had, of course, considered proposing the question of marriage, whatever that may be for them, but they were taking things slowly and at a pace the other man felt comfortable with. And Archie was more than happy to wait.

In turn, Horatio had taught him to play whist, which he sorely regretted after Archie had deftly beaten him during their games in the officer's lounge, declaring, “I must have the luck of the Devil, gentlemen.”

Archie had tried to at least act serious when Horatio gave him another lecture on how the game was won with mathematical conclusions and not luck, even if he was drunk as a lord and swaying dramatically as Horatio continued his chiding.

But now, the peace was unlikely to hold. 

The Admiralty had confirmed Horatio’s commission of captaincy in the most recent despatches, and had given him command of the  _ Hotspur _ . 

In the two days before they were due to set sail, Horatio had managed to fill up all of the positions aboard, even going as far as to make Styles his steward, a decision they all knew he would come to regret. But there were still two blank spaces in the ship’s log book, waiting to be decided.

“Archie…” Horatio had said, nervously, before clasping his hands behind his back and adopting a more formal stance. “Mr. Kennedy. There is still the matter of my first and second lieutenant.” 

Archie smiled; he had been expecting this but hadn’t been able to resist letting Horatio stew on it a little longer. Crossing the room gently, he took Horatio’s hands from behind his back and flashed one of his infamous smiles; “I don’t believe William’s ego could handle being outranked by  _ two  _ of his previous juniors, Mr. Hornblower. Especially when one of them is a little prone to panic.”

Horatio frowned. “May I remind you who it was who followed the man he loved into a mission that very nearly proved to be fatal?"

Despite his insistence on reminding him of his own bravery, there was no fire behind this rebuttal, and Archie had taken that as his cue to pull the other man into his arms. 

“You will, of course, be my second Lieutenant?” Horatio said, still with a slight nervous edge to his voice, even as Archie felt him start to relax against his hold.

“My dear foolish Horatio, I would be your _anything_ if it meant being by your side.”

He smiled fondly at the memory, now merely hours from leaving land behind. Horatio, who had managed to escape from their bed, much to Archie’s dismay, was now dressed and pacing the length of their room, occasionally stopping to look out the window at the docks. Archie knew the  _ Hotspur  _ was in capable hands as William relished in creating order before their journey, but that didn’t stop Horatio worrying; the man was never more comfortable than he was doing his duty to the king. 

“Go,” Archie said softly, “I’ll be there shortly, I should like to visit the bookshop before we set sail.”

After he had departed, Archie found a roguish grin spread across his face, for he had managed to slip a letter into Horatio's jacket during the night. He wished he could be there when it was discovered, but told himself it would be worth it to replace Horatio’s nearly falling-apart copy of Hamlet, which had got water-damaged during their last mission. 

My Horatio, My Love, My Only, -

I sometimes think upon what my life would be if I had not picked up your letter ten years ago. I wonder if we were destined to meet, to love each other so passionately. For a life without you in it, I fear, would be a life not worth living. 

We are but two fools who took their time to say those precious words, and I would not change a second of it. 

I love you now as I did then, and as I always will. 

Eternally & lovingly yours,

Archie

As he shrugged on his own jacket he heard that familiar crinkle -  _ surely not _ \- and he pulled out an envelope with the handwriting that still made his heart race after exactly ten years. 

Of course Horatio had remembered their anniversary; while Archie was the hopeless romantic of the two, the other man did have a knack for remembering dates, even if he wasn’t always sure what to do with the information.

My Witty Fool, Archie:

It’s hard to believe we’ve been together for three years. Even harder to believe that ten years have passed since that first misplaced letter.

You once wondered at the odds of us finding each other, and then immediately forbade me from actually doing the calculations. I’m sorry, my love, for though I will not force you to read through the actual numbers, I want you to consider the factors that would go into such an answer:

That I wrote a letter the day I did.

That it never found its way to my father.

That it arrived somewhere you would find it.

That you decided to read it.

That you wrote back.

That  _ I _ wrote back.

If one small piece had been different, our paths might never have crossed. Probability was almost certainly against it.

And yet, as our whist games have shown, probability isn’t everything.

Whether our meeting was a mathematical likelihood or a game of chance, we’ll never know. But whatever it is that brought us together, not a day goes by that I’m not grateful for it.

I love you, my dearest Archie, and I’m glad to have you by my side for whatever lies ahead.

Your affectionate love,

Horatio

Archie smiled brightly as he closed the door to their lodgings for the final time, tucking the letter into his pocket, and reflecting on how he had ended up sharing his life with the most endearing man across the seven seas.

Their journey to find each other had not been easy. But for now, it was perfect.


End file.
